


Prelude to a Dance

by Winterstar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Christmas, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Steggy Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9070174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: It might be a conspiracy to get them together, Steve doesn't know. But it sure looks like Sam, Natasha, and Bucky are all working together to get the star crossed lovers - Steve and Peggy to finally find the right partner.

  Steggy Secret Santa for brittthebaker





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Steggy Secret Santa story for brittthebaker. I look at this story as a prologue to the possibilities between them in a modern AU.

“That’s her, I’m telling you.” Bucky leans over the counter and nearly topples into Steve. “You know it is. It’s her.”

Steve keeps his head down, focusing on preparing the smoothie that Bucky just ordered, while surreptitiously trying to gain a peek at the woman standing in line for coffee. It’s been a while since he last saw her – ages it feels like – and he shouldn’t still have any kind of infatuation for someone he met in high school during a single semester of his senior year. It’s been years; Steve went off to the army, got big, ended up with medals and badges of honor and courage all to come back home to – well – nothing. His whole family is Bucky, and they didn’t have two dimes to rub together when they got home from Afghanistan. No money, no jobs and a heap of health issues from their injuries. But they made it, ended up on their feet more or less.

After all that, Steve never expected to see Peggy Carter again. She had been an exchange student during the Spring semester of their senior year. He’d fallen head over heels for her but never dated her, not really. Nothing like that at all. They’d been friendly and even exchanged contact information, but like everything in the world – things got swept away with time. He’d gone on to graduate and then join the army – stupid Bucky following him for no reason other than he thought Steve would get himself killed ‘over there’. Kind of ironic how it turned out. Steve glances up at Bucky. He lost his arm over there but he’s adjusting well. Or as well as can be expected. Steve still holds a lot of guilt for that, but Bucky always chides him about it. They are a mixed pair. Steve with his guilt and Bucky nurturing his own guilt for what happened to Steve. 

Once they left the army, Steve ended up in Washington DC. He’d finally gotten into art school, but affording it is another hemisphere of grief. He’s lucky that his friend Sam hired him on at his family’s diner and coffee shop. They even let Bucky and Steve rent the apartment upstairs for half of what’s it is worth. Bucky could go back and stay with his family in New York, but the man has some kind of mother hen complex when he comes to Steve or guilt. They both have guilt from their combat experience. Bucky wasn’t the only one to be wounded. 

“You gotta talk to her,” Bucky whispers and looks like he’s about to delve into a conspiratorial move. 

“No, I don’t. She probably doesn’t even remember me,” Steve replies as he plops the drink in front of Bucky. He doesn’t say, _if she does remember me – she probably wants to throw hot coffee in my face._ “If that’s even her.” 

Bucky pulls the mango smoothie closer and leans against the bar. Sipping the thick drink, he smiles around the straw and then says, “She wanted you to ask her out, you know that.”

Steve feels the heat on his cheeks as he watches the line at the coffee register. “No, I don’t think so. We were just study buddies.”

Bucky chuckles and raises his one hand to his mouth. “Christ, I cannot believe you still call it that. She wanted you to ask her out. She could have hung out with anyone and she picked you, buddy boy.”

Steve rubs at his thigh. It’s a tick, a little security motion he picked up after their deployment. They’d both been shot. Bucky lost his arm, and Steve nearly lost his leg. To this day Bucky can barely look at Steve when he wears shorts – because he’s the one who shot Steve – they call it friendly fire. The guilt eats at Bucky, but, for Steve, he’s just glad they made it out alive. There’s no fault in Steve’s mind. The chaos and near bedlam in the close quarters against a dozen terrorists – they were lucky to get out alive. It was Bucky shooting him or a terrorist pulling the trigger and blowing off Steve’s head. He thinks Bucky picked the right thing to do. His friend thinks differently to this day. 

Steve pulls his hand away from his thigh and frowns. There’s so much experiences and life between the time they were in high school and now, even if that beautiful woman in the coffee line is Peggy Carter, it would not matter. They are different people; those seven years have changed everything for Steve, for Bucky, for everyone, from those innocent days. 

“Hey Steve,” Sam calls from the cash register at the coffee bar. “Can you work the register?”

Steve freezes, working the cash register means he’ll have to come face to face with the impersonator of Peggy Carter. He grimaces. “I gotta lot of orders here.” He’s lying and he’s a terrible liar. Natasha, Bucky’s most significant other he’s ever dated or will date, joins them and laughs as Steve answers. She smiles and there’s playful accusation in her eyes. He’s done for so he shrugs and waves them away. “Just got free.”

Going over to Sam, Steve says, “What’s up?”

“Ma just texted me; there’s a shipment out back she wants me to check on,” Sam says as he shows his phone to Steve. 

“Hey, if you want, I can go and unload. You can stay here. No problem,” Steve says as Sam finished up with the customer in front of the Peggy doppelgänger. Sam knows he can’t do it, not on his own, not with his leg the way it is.

“No can do,” Sam answers. He smiles and there’s something devilish and slightly off putting about his expression. “Ma wants me to check on the inventory and you know, how Ma gets about her inventory. Plus she’d have my hide if I had you doing the heavy work.” He starts to sidle away with his hands in the air, one clutching the phone and the other giving Bucky and Natasha a thumbs up sign. 

He’s been had. 

Sighing, he turns around and there’s Peggy’s clone, standing there as sweet and defiant as can be – because God only knows that Peggy Carter is not a sweet thing – well yes she’s sweet and lovely and beautiful and everything Steve ever dreamed of as an adolescent with his hormones going wild. She’s always ready to take on the world. He swears she could wrestle a bull during a corrida de toros to the ground and scare the thing to death. He smiles and, for an instant he knows it is her and knows it isn’t her. 

She’s digging in her purse – Coach leather – very expensive. He frowns again. He’d never impress her with his diner day job and going to art school of all things at night. She looks up at him and then back in her purse. “I’m so sorry, I’ve the order right here.”

It’s her – it’s definitely her. He’d know her voice anywhere with that beautiful British accent and melodious tone. He melted to it enough in high school to know her voice a mile away. “It’s okay, Miss.” He keeps his head down and he doesn’t look up as she pulls out a piece of paper, triumphant.

“Ah, here it is.”

He takes the pad to write up the coffee order. “What will it be?”

“Wha-? Steven?” she says and he can’t help it, his head pops up and he meets her eyes. Those dark eyes that always greeted him warmly, always welcomed him when so many hadn’t back in their school days. He’d been the skinny kid that everyone picked on and no girl would ever looked at twice. But never with Peggy, never. “Steve?”

“Yeah, hi.” He swallows down the fear that his ninety pound inner spirit grapples with and smiles at her. “Hi Peggy.”

“Oh my God, Steve. I can hardly believe it. Look at you,” she says and reaches out as if she might touch his pectoral muscle, but then aborts her gesture and clasps her hand closed. “Oh my.”

He laughs because her cheeks are bright rosy red and her eyes are filled with not only surprise but a kind of laughter that isn’t taunting but sweet and joyful. He feels the heat touch his own face and he bows his head as he allows a smile to curl his lips. He needs to force the words out because even though he’s not that scrawny kid anymore on the outside, he’s still the same kid inside. “Nice to see you, too.” He might just mutter those words, but it doesn’t matter.

Her eyes dance as she looks him over and she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me. Good lord, Steve, did you do steroids or something? A mysterious scientist with a super serum and vitarays?” 

As he grins at her, something tense releases and he’s back in high school and they are just friends again. It is so much easier to speak to her as his friend. “Vitarays? Peggy, come on. I don’t think I’m that naïve to let some mad scientist shoot magical rays at me or inject me with super serum.”

She leans forward over the counter and says, “Go ahead, tell me your secret. I’m listening.”

“So am I,” the guy behind her says. “And I don’t hear no one ordering anything.”

Peggy gives the guy the stink eye and Steve recognizes it so he quickly jumps in and says, “Sorry, sir.” Turning back to Peggy, he asks, “Your orders?” She has a list clenched in her fist.

“Listen,” she says with a sly smile. “Why don’t you let me buy you a cup of coffee-.”

“You can buy my coffee if you’ll just hurry up,” snaps the guy behind her.

“I’m working,” Steve replies to Peggy and ignores the _doesn’t look like it to me_ from Mister Obnoxious. “Your order?” He taps the paper in her hand, waiting for her to read it or at least give it to him.

“You know what? How about an Earl Grey for me and a coffee black for you?” She grins at him that slight smile that always set him on fire and does just about the same now.

“Peggy.” He draws out her name and Mister Obnoxious sighs loudly and impatiently. “Okay, okay.”

“Okay, let me do it,” Sam says and knocks Steve to the side. “Go get the lady her tea and take a break.”

“Sam, no. I-.” He doesn’t finish because Sam gives him that look that says don’t mess with him. 

Again, Sam slaps his arm and shakes his head. “Go, you didn’t take a lunch.”

“But the inventory?”

“Hey, I just want a damned coffee.” Mister Obnoxious folds his arms over his chest and lays them on his massive belly. 

Sam gestures for Steve to leave at the same time he says, “Great news, we have a sale on dick coffee.”

Steve doesn’t stick around to find out what the customer’s reaction will be. Instead, he sidles to the hot plate to get a cup of hot water for the Earl Gray, but Peggy stops him. 

“Oh no you don’t. Tea water must be boiled, my dear,” she says. There’s mischief and mystery in her eyes and he remembers sitting with her in the library as they studied pre-calc and thinking all the worlds and universes might very well be in the dark of her eyes. He realizes now he might be a little over the top when it comes to Peggy. 

“Boiled?”

“Yes, boil that water, mister, or don’t you bother giving it to an upstanding British gal.” She smiles at him and then winks. “I’ll get us a table, dear.” 

He feels the color heat his cheeks again. He needs to shake it off because there’s nothing there. They are just old friends about to catch up. He never had a romance with Peggy Carter; it was more of a star crossed lovers, passing in the night kind of thing. Everything about her and everything about him was and is opposing and different. Even as he boils the water (in the microwave and he hopes to hell that isn’t a sacrilege), he shrugs away any hopes. That’s when Bucky makes an appearance again – he’s always there. 

“Need a little assistance?” Bucky asks. He’s jumped the counter again and left Natasha to her own evil doings, Steve is sure. 

“No, and get out. You are not supposed to be back here,” Steve says as he pulls down a cup and plops the tea bag into it. 

“Well, I might not have two hands but I can carry a tray, if you need me to.” He looks like he’s a cat snacking on the canary. 

Sighing, Steve says, “I don’t know what you’re up to.” He peers over his shoulder at the small café and spots Natasha speaking with Peggy who’s nabbed a table near the window. “The both of you.”

“Oh, just spreading some Christmas cheer,” Bucky says and picks up two of the scones from the display. He puts them on a plate and then adds it to a tray he’s retrieved from the shelf over the coffee bar. 

“Hey, you are not supposed to touch the scones with your hands,” Steve says as he screws up his face. He peeks at Natasha again. “What is she doing over there?”

“Don’t worry about it, they know one another,” Bucky says with a grin. That grin radiates devilry. It all falls into place – this is a set up. Steve glances across the sparsely crowded diner and sees Peggy chatting with Natasha. It’s obvious that they are more than acquainted.

“How long have you known?” Steve says and finishes up making the tea, throwing out the scones Bucky touched with his bare hand, and then getting fresh ones from the display cabinet. He places some paper napkins on the tray. 

Bucky pours Steve a coffee, leaving it black he puts it on the tray and caps it. “Long enough. You need this. Now go.” 

Frowning, Steve glances at the tray and then the walk to the window table that Peggy picked out. It’s clear across the floor; it might as well be the great divide of the Rocky Mountains. Steve never works the floor, he doesn’t serve customers at their tables. Bucky only grins and picks up the tray one handed. That’s got disaster written all over it. Steve rolls his eyes and then inhales sharply. 

This is where the little dreams and images that have been residing at the periphery of his perceptions - like the ones where he asks Peggy out, or the one where she says yes and they ended up spending Christmas together or New Year’s Eve or both – this is where all of that falls apart. Even the fact that he allowed himself to flash through these different scenarios and possibilities irritates him. First, he’s never been one to even know how to speak to women (but this is Peggy – his torturous hopeful brain retorts), and second, he’s not even successful – he’s only an art student making wages that don’t even pay his way. But then that doesn’t even stop him – what puts a halt on all gears leans against the back prep counter. He knows he shouldn’t be ashamed, but he’s always done things for himself. Even when a stiff wind could knock him over and Bucky would glower at his stubbornness, even then, he insisted on doing things for himself.

“Come on, the lady awaits,” Bucky says and then lifts the tray so it is shoulder high. 

“Great, just great,” Steve mutters to himself and then grabs the cane. He’s not a super soldier, there’s no such thing. He got his squad out of harm’s way even with a bullet in his leg. He dragged Bucky out of the fire fight, continued to battle his way out of trap, but ended up with a wound to his leg. A wound that eats at Bucky because it was Bucky’s gun, Bucky’s shot. He never blames Bucky, because if he hadn’t shot him – they would both be dead. Bucky never missed – he was a crack shot and one of the best snipers in the Army. He did what had to be done in the hell of the moment, even with a shattered arm.

Steve uses the cane – he can’t even pretend it’s just a fashion statement. With nerve damage to his back and his leg along with the muscle damage to his thigh, Steve cannot walk without assistance. His doctor wants him to use forearm crutches, but he refuses. That stubborn streak never dies. He uses the cane heavily, without it he would topple. His leg barely supports him as he shuffles out from around the counter and makes his way across the floor. He’s grateful that, at least, there’s a clear path, and he wonders at that – usually it’s a maze. Natasha glances at him and gives him a crooked smile. He knows immediately she must have worked the tables and chairs when he wasn’t looking. He needs to thank her – at least he didn’t fall over his two feet as he approaches the table with Peggy.

Her face is turned toward Natasha and they are thick into their conversation. For a moment, Steve feels as if he’s intruding and the urge to turn back comes over him, but Bucky sweeps around him and sets the tray on the table with a flourish. Steve still cannot believe he managed it one armed, and did it with such flare. Peggy turns to them and her smile never falters as she takes in Steve’s leg and his use of the cane. She only smiles broadly and invitingly. Everything his heart has always hoped for and desired. How could this be? How could she be stepping back into his life? He tries to settle down his ramming heart, because it would be too much to hope for – too much of a Christmas Miracle. He laughs inwardly. He can be so old fashioned.

He sidles around Bucky and manages to slide into the wooden chair without too much trouble. Bucky places the tea, the coffee and the plates with the scones onto the table and then does a bow that’s neither formal nor well done. But it does make Peggy laugh.

“Madame,” Bucky says and winks at Steve as Natasha tugs him away from the table.

Steve watches them go and lingers a little too long on them because he has turn back to Peggy. She’s watching him, calculating. He could always tell when Peggy had her sights on something – or someone. Either in a good or bad way. It feels like he’s in the crosshairs and he guesses he should have expected it – he did accept having coffee with her.

“So,” he says and his words come out loud and like he’s gasping for breath. 

She tilts her head and she’s not being cute, but it looks more like she’s testing his mood, his willingness. “So, tell me Steve Rogers, how come I’m only now hearing about all of your heroics.”

He bows his head and picks up the coffee. Anything to avoid looking directly at her; he doesn’t want to be blinded (by his own stupidity). “It was a dangerous situation. We all had our moments.”

“That’s not what James told me the other night,” she says. “He says, you saved everyone. You didn’t lose a single soul.”

“No, we didn’t.” He emphasizes the we but she sees right through him. He changes the subject. “When did you get into town and how come it’s the first time I’m hearing about it?” He raises his eyes and quirks a brow at her. It must work because there’s a highlight of rosy pink to her cheeks again.

“I’m here on assignment, as a long term liaison. I work in investigative reporting. Natasha was good enough to let me bunk at her place until I find somewhere of my own.” She plays a bit with the tea bag. “I work for the BBC now.”

“And Natasha works for the Post. So you’ve met.” He starts putting the pieces together. “How long have you been in town?”

She gets wistful then as if she’s hiding behind a curtain and hoping that he’ll discover her. “Not long, or maybe too long.” She looks up from her tea and says, “I knew you were in DC, Steve, I just didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

That surprises him and he shakes his head. “Why? I mean – Peggy – why?” He furrows his brow, but he knows why. This is his fault. He shouldn’t question her; he has no right.

A shadow passes over her features and she fights it – the disappointment and the past remembered pain. “Steve, I thought you weren’t interested.” She breaks one of the scones into two but doesn’t taste it. “We had a date, you know. To go to the prom. You never showed up. We were supposed to go dancing.”

“Oh.” It’s not like he didn’t remember that horrible image, thinking of her alone at the Stork Club where the seniors held their prom that year. He was supposed to meet her because she was on the prom committee and had to be there early. He couldn’t get off of work to help out at the Club before the big event. It had been a huge coup for the prom committee, acquiring such a posh place for a high school dance. It’d been all Peggy using her very persuasive and very winning personality to get the owners to offer the place for less than half the price. 

He was supposed to meet her. He had a date – not really a date but a promise. She hadn’t accepted any other offers to take her to the prom, and he couldn’t muster up the courage to ask her. So, she’d told him to meet her there and she’d save him a dance. He never made it. She left two days later to go back to England. They’d written to one another here and there. Friends through different social media outlets, the whole nine yards. But they kept their distance about the dance and his absence.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable enough to come?” She wipes away the idea. “You know that I was staying at the Starks, that Tony had no interest in me whatsoever. He always only had eyes for Virginia.”

“Yeah,” Steve says and remembers Tony. Tony grew up and changed Stark Industries – changed it from the warmonger machine that it was into a great advanced technology company. Everyone knew Tony Stark. By the time Steve was in high school, Tony had already hop, skipped, and jumped over so many years in school and ended up in college by when he hit fifteen. 

While Steve had been a Brooklyn boy since his mother moved them to the borough when he was a baby, he had been going to high school in Manhattan for art. It took a good hour to get to school every morning, but it had been worth it. Bucky hated that he went so far and complained bitterly. Going to a private school that cost more than their rent seemed obscene to Steve, but his mother wanted him to go – she looked so proud and happy when he came home to see his acceptance letter to the New York Arts and Sciences Institute for High School students. Bucky had applied as well and got in by the skin of his teeth. He ended up going for mechanical studies, but he really just spent his time keeping an eye on Steve. He never applied himself, though Steve knew he was a much better student than he pretended. So he had a wonderful school and his best friend with him. Meeting Peggy had been the icing on the cake. 

“So, what was it then?” she asks and while there’s no accusation in her eyes – and she’s a damned angel for not condemning him of ditching her on prom night. She’s prompting him, helping him, trying to give him an opening to confess.

“I wanted to tell you,” he says and he feels all the more guilty; but it always felt like an accuse. “I wanted to call you. I should have called you later, when we connected and whatever. It just was never the right time.”

“You found someone else?” she says and her voice is soft and tender and feels even worse. She’s trying to console him. 

“No,” Steve says and realizes he never did find anyone else who could take Peggy’s place in his heart. “No. I wish, no – that came out wrong. I do not wish.”

She chuckles and folds the paper napkin with the smear of her red lipstick on it. “Oh, Steve, you never could talk to a girl and now you still can’t talk to a woman.”

“Well, not a woman like you,” he says. 

She sighs and it’s more of a sound of exasperation than sweet desire. “Oh, Steve, what am I going to do with you?” She throws her hands up in mock surrender. “What am I going to do with me? I should be furious that you stood me up on prom night. I should be angry that you still haven’t realized that I would have understood your reason. That I know your reason.”

“Damn,” he mutters. “Who told you? How did you find out?” He never wanted anyone to find out. It felt wrong and terrible and what else was he supposed to do? His Ma was sick, she couldn’t work and Steve was taking on extra hours at the store with old man Milken, but it still wasn’t enough. The hospital bills on top of the tuition, he never should have gone to the school. Never. The landlord kicked them out of the building, had them evicted on the day of the prom. Steve had come home to all of their worldly possessions on the lawn outside the building, his mother sick and sunken on their one couch. She looked defeated but still brave, still ready to take on the world. She had insisted he go to the prom – he refused. He stayed and helped get all of their stuff moved. Thank God for Bucky and the local parish priest. They moved into the basement of the church temporarily. But it didn’t matter – his mother was gone in a few weeks and he was left with nothing. 

He never wanted to be anyone’s sob story, least of all his own.

“Well, Steve, it doesn’t take a lot of investigative work to find out what happened. Plus, I did keep in touch with James as well.” She sips her tea and then asks, “Tell me why you wouldn’t say anything to me. How come you couldn’t trust me, Steve?”

“That’s not it, that’s not it at all,” Steve says and he has never been ashamed of who he is, or where he came from, except – maybe a small part of him always wanted to impress Peggy. He shrugs and it feels false. “I just didn’t want to – my issues weren’t yours. It’s my fault I never called you or told you what was happening.”

“Losing your home and then your mother,” Peggy says and reaches her hand across the table. She holds onto him. “How could you think I wouldn’t want to be there for you?”

He feels the prickle of tears hot in his eyes and he tries to squelch it. “There wasn’t anything you could do about it.”

“Sure there was,” Peggy says. “You didn’t have to be alone.” She pats his hand and then sits back, not touching him anymore. He wants her touch. “Even now you do it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean?” He thinks maybe he should end this because it feels more like an intervention than a coffee date – and why does he think it should be date? It isn’t like he asked her out, he never asked her out. They were going to the prom together because Peggy suggested it. 

“Look at me,” she says in a low and tender tone.

He finds he’s staring at his hands. When he looks up, she’s there. Her expression soft but strong and everything he always found beautifully fierce about her. He shouldn’t feel nervous or worried around her, because she always accepted him as he was. She never expected more. He meets her eyes. “Peggy.”

“I want you to know, Steve, that I don’t blame you – for missing our date. I know life intrudes, and sometimes, well, sometimes we don’t get to choose. Sometimes, we have to act.”

“I wasn’t brave, I couldn’t face you after what I’d done,” he confesses. A burden lifts from his shoulders – one that he’d been carrying for so many years.

“What you’d done? You helped your sick mother when you lost your home.” She shakes her head. “I thought better of you. I thought you would know I wouldn’t judge you for that.”

“No, no,” he says. “It’s just that – I should have gotten in touch with you after. I felt so horrible about it. But then, Ma got sicker and-.”

She reaches again and this time she takes his hand in hers. “Shush now, I know what happened. And I don’t judge you. I could never judge you.”

“Ma,” Steve begins as he tightens his fingers around hers. “Ma always wanted me to stand up, to never lay down. To always get back up. I did. After – after she died-.” He cannot finish. So he starts anew. “So I went to the Army. Went and signed right up. Bucky was so angry with me. Said I was going to go ahead and kill myself in the damned Army.”

“Bucky joined, too?” It’s a question but not.

“Yeah, we both did. I ate three square meals a day, got on the right meds, and suddenly I got big. I don’t know it wasn’t a miracle or anything like super soldier serum. Just old fashioned late growth spurt I suppose.” He shrugs. “Then we got deployed.”

“It was hard,” she says in a low voice. Her eyes are like twilight and he feels a softness suffusing through him, the feeling of comfort and home that he’s missed all these long years. She’s not digging for information but offering solace and safety. She’s not being the investigative reporter he knows she could be.

“It was, it was,” he agrees. He glances over his shoulder to see Bucky hanging close to Natasha. The place has started to fill up and they are notched in a corner booth. He’s happy that Bucky found Nat; it did a lot for his guilt and his pain from the war. Turning back to Peggy, he says, “We survived and things are better now.”

“And you are in art school, I heard,” she says and waits for him to elaborate.

But no, he’s not going to do that at all. Instead he looks to her and says, “No more about me, what about you?”

This genuinely brings a smile to her face as if she never expected a man to be interested in her work. She taps the table and then leans back, one elbow on the back of her chair. “Reporter for the BBC like I said, but I’m working as an liaison between Europe and the US. I’m covering the UN among other things. It’s fun and exciting and I’m able to clean up some of the scum of the world. Do real work, change the world. You know how it is.”

He smiles. “You always wanted to make a difference. And a difference for the better, Peggy.”

“Yes, and so did you,” she says and he knows what she’s doing, turning the conversation back to focus on him rather than her.

“Do you like the job?” 

She brings her arms back to her sides and her demeanor shifts and changes. She looks a little defeated. “I thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted the world – where I could go to exotic places, talk to and meet interesting, even dangerous people. But sometimes-.”

“Sometimes it just tells you how ugly the world can be,” he finishes for her. “When I left the service, I felt a lot like that. I had to leave, don’t get me wrong. I couldn’t stay with my medical issues. I saw a lot of terrible things and it changes you.”

“I wonder if people are worth saving sometimes,” she whispers.

“Oh, they are, they are,” he says and for the first time he reaches out and touches her hand. “I came back and it was a hard row for Bucky and me. He’s still getting fit for a prosthetic. Stark Industries, good old Tony Stark and his main clinician, Doctor Bruce Banner, are running a clinical trial for bionic arms or something and Buck’s been accepted. But before then, it was difficult. Bucky didn’t even want to get a new arm. I had to convince him. What we saw, what had to be done – it was all ugly and he still blames himself.”

“He shouldn’t.” 

“That’s one of the conclusions people make about soldiers coming back. They think that because we were ordered to do something, we’re okay with it. Well, we aren’t, not all the time. I didn’t want to go into that town we ended up in, not at all. We walked into that trap,” Steve says and the shadows around the room move and slip out from the corners. They form into men with guns and the walls constrict. “It was a nightmare.” His own voice sounds like the ghosts of his own past.

The world around him fades and he sees the bitter landscape of the town – a town that intel told them had been taken over by the enemy forces, by terrorists and the whole of the eastern portion of Afghanistan was in danger of falling if the Howling Commandoes failed to root them out. The Commandoes went in under cover of the night, with Steve in the lead and Bucky right beside him. The town practically glowed like a star in the darkness. It was small, confined with the mountains all around it, probably a good place for transportation of poppies, and other illegal activities. 

Going in they cleared out the terrorists like a storm washing away the remains of a drought. It was fast and efficient and then they caught sight of the last of the terrorists and heard the cries of a family – yelling for help. They went – it was what they did.

It was all a sham. Later they found out that the village itself had been mocked up and made to look like a thriving village. Instead, it had been abandoned ages ago. They ended up in a close quarters fight for their lives. No one got out unharmed. He can still feel the electricity in the air – the energy of life and death. It crackled and spat at them. It feel charged and hot. The sweat streamed down his face as he called out to his team. Ambushed and pinned down they had no other choice but to fight their way out of the small house they were trapped in, lured by the calls of a non-existent family. The terrorists had used recordings – and they fell for it. Steve still blames himself to this day. 

“Hey,” Peggy says. “Where did you go?”

He shakes away the ever present shades of yesterday. “Just realizing that maybe we all make our mistakes.”

“We do,” Peggy smiles and there’s something poignant about it. “When my brother, Michael died, I thought I would never feel the same again. I felt as if the world had betrayed us. We, my family, always worked so hard, giving of ourselves and then he died because of a terror attack while he was trying to do some good.”

“You can’t say that good isn’t worth it,” he returns. “I had to leave the Army, I didn’t have a choice. I’m just a barista with dreams of being an artist someday, but Peggy, I’d do anything to be able to change the world for the better again. I know it’s something we should do, something that’s at the core of this season, right?”

They both look out of the window and the light snow drifts down from the gray skies. It’s almost Christmas day. Steve always finds himself a little wistful and lost around this time of the year. It feels like his home, or what he once called home, is a different time and place. 

“It’s cliché, I know,” he says and finishes off his coffee. 

“It isn’t,” she says with soft laughter. “Nothing was ever cliché with you, Steve.” She glances up at him. “Nothing. You’ve always been a good heart. Even in the Army, the stories I’ve heard, you were a good heart. Always trying to do the right thing for everyone, not just your country, but everyone. I think that’s one of the reasons I always liked you, Steve. Your heart is good.”

He feels the warmth spread from his chest to his cheeks and he tries to suppress a smile. “I wish I hadn’t missed that dance, Peggy. I really do.” That wistful feeling comes again and it is mixed with everything else he lost.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says. Somehow that crushes his hopes and he shifts to stare at the snowflakes and the sky. Maybe if he concentrates long enough his stupid misplaced hopes will dissipate and fade away. “Steve?”

He swallows hard, and looks back at her. He hurt her by missing their dance. She’s been so understanding throughout the times he’s known her. Sure they drifted apart, as anyone does on social media these days, but he’d always held out a single hope for them.

“Steve, I didn’t-.” She rights her shoulders and says, “I didn’t mean it that way. Sometimes even I get things muddled. What I meant to say is that maybe learning a little of the world, helped us appreciate a little more what we had.”

It takes a long minute to process what she said but eventually the gears in his head get unstuck and he’s able to get out of the muck of heart break and loss and plow forward toward her. “I appreciated you every day, Peggy. I really wish I would have said something afterward. But it felt as if leaving you there, at the dance with no one – well it felt like I should just drop into the ocean and never be heard from again. Let the cold Atlantic freeze me to death.”

“Oh, you are always so dramatic, Steve,” she says with a giggle. “Everything I know about you and feel about you is good. You have nothing to apologize for, your mother needed you and I would not presume to be more important-.”

“But you are important, always Peggy. You’ve always been important to me,” he says and remembers how he laid in a hospital room in Germany – suffering, in pain, and the only thing that helped him was thinking about what could have been with her. 

She bites at her bottom lip and then releases it. “You’ve always been on my mind. Always.”

He wants so much to say something, rekindle a romance that could have been. But then he catches a glimpse of his cane and remembers how much of a burden he would be on anyone. He needs to get over it. He is not a burden, but it is that moment of transition from his former understanding of himself into this new self that he still has to accept in many ways. He knows that, and he turns to see Bucky and Natasha huddled close with her hand on his unshaven cheek. They have steaming cups in front of them, but the coffees have been left abandoned for each other. He doesn’t begrudge Bucky his happiness – the man deserves it all. His friend, his brother, his one anchor throughout their recovery. With each they were able to survive in more than one way. Now, he needs to move on, but he wonders at his lack of courage. He could face down a terrorist, had faced down terrorists. Had a gun to his forehead and very nearly died – but he can’t gather up the courage for Peggy.

What does that say about him?

That thought just enrages him and he shoves it away to focus on Peggy. With a bit more of a tremble in his tone, he asks, “Are you seeing someone now?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “No, not at all. I’ve always been waiting.”

“For what?”

She smiles and there’s something both lovely and playful about her. “The right partner?”

His heart thrums a beat so hard and so fast he doesn’t think he can breathe in any air. He forces himself to move through his own fears, ignoring the sirens warning him in his head. “Do you think, you might want to take a chance on me? I mean I know it’s late and all, but Bucky and I are having Christmas dinner at our place upstairs. Natasha’s coming and I would be honored if you would consider-.” He thinks he says it all but he’s sure half of it came out mumbled or stuttering. He’s never been good talking to women.

She stands up suddenly and then walks around the table, moves his cane from the chair next to him, and sits down. Without a word she takes his face in her hands and kisses him. He’s never been kissed like this before – the ones he’s shared have been hot and passionate and needy. This kiss opens up something different. It calls for more and once the surprise wears off, he offers more. He slips his arms around her, holds her close, feels the press of her against him and his world slides away from the shadows that have inhabited it for so long. There’s no miracle cures, but he feels brighter, lighter, and more hopeful than before. 

She breaks the kiss and laughs when he releases a little moan of betrayal. “There will be more from where that came from, my dear. And yes, I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”

He searches her face. “Are you sure? Peggy, I have a lot of issues, a lot from my injury.”

This time there’s actual delight in her eyes as she shakes her head. “My goodness, Steve, I fell in love with you when I could have picked you up and carried you away. A cane isn’t going to scare me away.”

“You couldn’t have picked me up, I was over ninety pounds you know.”

She cannot stop laughing and he joins her. Somehow she’s sitting so close, her weight against his and he can support her. His arms are around her waist and her head leaning against his shoulder. 

There’s so much more to know about her, to experience with her. He cannot wait to find out more, he wants to know so much more. “Yeah, I can get off of work. Maybe we could go and talk a little?”

“What have you done with my Steve Rogers? Are you asking me on two different dates in a matter of only minutes?” Her eyes sparkle and the snow in the window behind her glimmers. 

“Yeah, I think I am,” he says as he beams at her. He knows he doesn’t have a ton of money and he can’t bring her anywhere fancy. “There’s a little art studio around the corner where I -.” He stops and then pushes his insecurities down. “I’m taking courses there, they have a quiet place – you can see my work.” He’s rambling. “We can talk there.”

“That would be fine.”

“I know it’s not changing the world, but art-.” 

She presses her index finger to his lips. “One of the reasons I fight for a better world, my dear, is so we can have things like art. I think it’s worth it, you’re worth it.”

He tries to quell the overwhelming, almost desperate hope – but he cannot. “Then I’d love to share my latest work with you, Peggy.” He’s loathed to even stop touching her for a moment, but he does as he reaches over for his cane and then makes his way to his feet. “Let me just grab my coat, and then we can-.” He spots their empty cups on the table and it occurs to him that she had a list of orders. “Oh, you had orders. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-.”

Stretching over the small bistro table, Peggy pulls her purse over and then takes out the list. “Not a list, not a list at all.” She hands him the paper.

It’s the prom ticket. Their missed dance.

“Oh.”

“I’ve been holding onto it, all these years, hoping I’d see you again so I could ask you for that dance.” She stands up while he leans against his cane.

“I’m afraid I don’t dance, Peggy. I never really did and now I just can’t.” He taps on his bum leg.

“Oh we’ll dance, my dear. There’s more than one way to dance,” Peggy says and he sees the truth in her eyes and all the future before him. “We’ll dance.”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Where I see this going?
> 
> Of course to a happy ending but not without some grief along the way. Peggy is an investigative reporter and Steve has things to hide. But it all turns out in the end.....


End file.
